Poetry

It pours out dancing

To some eternal tune.

It hurls me

To the hearts

of strange worlds.

Do I feel the ocean within me?

Meltin’ all fetters,

of the heart n the soul.

With a thousand doorways

Floats

This sacred ground.

Do I travel a million miles, in one instant?

Did I meet you, my friend, there?

You too?

Aeons ago, sang Kabir

…The drop merges with the ocean

…How many know?

…That the ocean merges with the drop?

Today I linger there.

Ages ago, wrote Frost

…Of the promising woods

…And the miles to go before he sleeps

These doubts?

How many more meetings?

And Neruda,

“It was at that age…poetry arrived

in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where

It came from, from winter or a river.”

Here, may I always loiter.

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2 comments

  1. Akash · September 6, 2011

    beautiful … I also wonder sometimes .. that I found poetry .. or the poetry helped find me 🙂

  2. shahina · September 6, 2011

    Ah….nice thought 🙂 ….. !!

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